


Black eye peas

by TWCooper



Series: Band of Gold [3]
Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, Humor, M/M, Relationship Discussions, Wedding Planning, ballum - Freeform, ben gets beaten up again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-20 18:56:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21061556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWCooper/pseuds/TWCooper
Summary: Callum had always known what Ben was like. He hadn't come into this relationship blind to Ben's faults. It wasn't Ben's scheming that Callum minded.What Callum minded was that Ben was terrible at it.****Callum's quiet night in is ruined when his fiance returns with a black eye. Again.





	Black eye peas

Callum had found the absolute perfect spot. The sofa arm wasn’t digging into his back, the cushion was supporting his neck exactly right, his feet were jammed up against the cushion so that his legs were at the perfect angle to rest his book on. His beer and crisps were in easy reach on the table. Ben was out. The door was locked. Nothing to get in the way of Jack Ryan saving the day yet again.

Bliss.

He was just getting to the part where Ryan was about to rescue the president, again, when the front door slammed back on its hinges. A few moments later he heard the familiar sound of Ben – Callum could tell it was Ben from his distinctive brand of Aggressive Stomping – yanking open the freezer and pulling out a bag of frozen peas.

“I’ll get the First Aid kit then shall I,” he sighed, using an old receipt to mark his page.

Ben was sat at the kitchen table, holding the peas to what Callum knew would be a rapidly darkening black eye. His lip was bleeding, and already beginning to puff up around the cut and there were scratches on his knuckles.

“Do I need to start preparing an alibi?” Callum said, fishing the antiseptic out of the Ben’s-been-beaten-up-again bag.

Callum had always known what Ben was like. He hadn’t come into this relationship blind to Ben’s faults; his temper, his deep emotional damage, his philosophy of ‘why follow the law when you can just as easily break it’. Their entire courtship had been based on Ben essentially blackmailing Callum after all. No. It wasn’t Ben’s scheming that Callum minded.

What he minded was that Ben was _terrible _at it.

In the four years Callum had known Ben, he didn’t think he’d seen a single one of his boyfriend’s schemes go to plan. Ben kept trying to be The Bad Boy Of Albert Square, but it always ended up the same way – sitting in the kitchen with a bag of frozen peas pressed to his eye while Callum cleaned him up.

“You know I’m starting to think you like being beaten up all the time,” Callum said as he began to dab the antiseptic against Ben’s cut lip. The other man hissed from the sting, before winking at Callum with his good eye.

“Well if you did fancy getting a bit rougher in the bedroom, I certainly wouldn’t object,” Ben said.

Callum snorted. They had tried that precisely once. Ben had been into it, masochist that he was, but Callum freaked out almost immediately. The long distinctive marks of his fingers on Ben’s body had stared up at him like an accusation. It had taken Ben half an hour to talk him down afterwards. Since then, they’d just stuck to bringing Callum’s domineering, but distinctly pacifist, side out to play.

“You gunna tell me what happened?” said Callum. The split lip wasn’t too bad this time.

“Probably best I don’t,” said Ben. “Can’t be forced to testify about what you don’t know. I’ll tell you after we get hitched and spousal privilege kicks in.”

Because of course Ben not only knew the term ‘spousal privilege’, but was planning his criminal activity around it. Callum loved Ben with all that he was, but there were times he really had to question why.

“I thought this was supposed to be an insurance fraud thing,” said Callum. “That’s one of those crimes posh people do because they don’t risk getting beaten up.”

Ben had told him all the details, of course. It had been one of Callum’s relationship rules after Ben’s lies about the whole Martin Fowler thing had almost ended their relationship before it really started.

“Turns out every crime risks you getting beaten up if there’s money involved,” said Ben. “The guy whose car we ‘stole’ decided he wanted to keep the money _and_ the car. I objected. He objected a bit more forcefully. Took a few knocks but I got my money in the end.”

“What do you even want the money for?” said Callum, turning his ministrations to the cuts on Ben’s knuckles. At least he gave as good as he got, just hopefully not good enough to get the police knocking on the door for GBH. “We rent this place off Pam for practically nothing and we both bring decent money in from our actual jobs, especially since your Dad signed over the Arches to go swanning off to Portugal. We don’t need any more money, we’re fine.”

“Yeah, but we got a wedding to pay for ain’t we.”

There it was. Currently planning his second, Callum was convinced that the actual purpose of planning a wedding was to put a couple through their harshest stress test to see if they should even be getting married.

Whitney had done most of the work the first-time round. This time he didn’t have a choice but to be involved. The alternative was to let Kathy take over and Callum didn’t even want to think what that would end up looking like.

“If we can’t afford it then we don’t have it Ben,” Callum said. “Simple.”

“But we can’t afford nothing right now,” said Ben. “You saw the cost of that venue the other day. Plus catering. You know half the Square is going to wanna come.”

“Then we don’t get married there,” Callum snapped.

Ben dropped the bag of peas from his face to look at Callum properly.

“I thought you loved that place.”

“I did,” said Callum. “It had a hedge maze. How amazing is that. But I don’t need to get married there.”

“Why didn’t you say that before I made a bloody pratt of myself ,” said Ben.

U

“Because I thought you wanted to get married there,” Callum said.

“Course I do,” said Ben. “It has a hedge maze. But I nearly punched that woman when she showed us the price.”

Callum buried his face in his hands, grinding his knuckles into his eyes.

“Ben,” he said. “I did all the traditional wedding stuff last time. Fancy car, posh suit, flowers I couldn’t even pretend to spell the name of. You remember how that all turned out?”

Ben smiled at him fondly.

“With me lying in your arms as you whispered sweet nothings and stroked my hair.”

“Because you had been shot and I thought you were dying.” Callum gathered up Ben’s hands in his own. They swamped Ben’s completely. “I don’t need a big, fancy wedding with all the trimmings. I don’t even really think I want one. All I want is you, standing across from me, telling me all the reasons why you love me. And maybe for you to wear a three-piece suit because the sight of you in a waistcoat does things to me.”

“Noted,” said Ben.

“We could get married in a fancy hotel with a hedge maze, or the back room of the registry office. I don’t care. The only place I don’t want to get married? Prison. Because you’ve gotten yourself arrested. Again.”

Ben laughed, before clasping at his ribs in pain.

“How about you have a shower we talk about this properly over dinner?” said Callum, helping Ben up to his feet.

“Sounds like the best idea I’ve ever heard,” said Ben.

“That’s because my ideas are great and your ideas get you beaten up,” said Callum. Ben jabbed him in the stomach in retaliation, but Callum dodged and instead pulled him in to a kiss, gently at first and then with fire. Callum wrapped his arms around Ben, running his hands down Ben’s side until his boyfriend winced, clutching at his side again.

“No. Unsexy pain. That is definitely an unsexy pain,” said Ben.

Callum laughed and shoved Ben off towards the shower before grabbing the peas off the table. He’d need to buy a new bag ready for next time, but at least he could add them to the Bolognese.

**Author's Note:**

> Note the first: I have never read a Jack Ryan novel, but I am want to understand there is a fair bit of president saving.  
Note the second: No kink-shaming intended. Your kink isn’t my kink (or Callum’s) and that’s okay.


End file.
